


Reach

by near_life_experience



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character deaths but not really, Gen, Hallucinations, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Whump, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/near_life_experience/pseuds/near_life_experience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony sees an out. Steve sees an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> It's been quite a while since I've written anything and this is the first thing I've written for MCU, but this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while and I figured I'd better get it out before Civil War comes out and I cease to be able to function!
> 
> This explores Tony and Steve's relationship a little before Civil War comes in and tries to wreck it. :)
> 
> Set post CA:TWS, A:AOU and pre CA:CW (kind of spoilers for Ant Man too, but not really)
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own!

“You look like shit, Wilson.” 

Sam lifts his head tiredly as none other than Tony Stark approaches from the other end of the hangar.

“Rhodey always says you have such a way with words,” Sam responds dryly, resisting the urge to rub his suddenly pounding temples. “What can I do for you, Stark?” 

Tony stops a few feet away, crossing his arms. “What, a guy has to have a reason to visit the training facility that he graciously provided for earth’s mightiest heroes?”

It comes out more bitter than he means it to, but he feels he’s within his bounds. He’s been asked that same question by no less than three of the other Avengers, his own former teammates included. Tony had wanted out of the superhero life, yes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. It doesn't mean he doesn't want to help.

Sam watches him warily for a minute before shrugging easily. “Hey, fair enough. I’m not gonna bite the hand that feeds me.” He bends to pick up his duffel from where he’d set it on the floor, letting out a deep sigh. He and Steve have just returned from following yet another cold lead on one James Buchanan Barnes, and he's due for training in a few hours.

Tony seems to know this as well and tells him as much when Sam turns to leave. “You really do look like shit,” he says, and Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes. He turns around and holds out his arms. Tony wants something, and he’s not going to leave until he gets it. 

The man’s eyes are surprisingly soft though, edged with a determination that Sam can’t quite find a purpose for yet. “You’re going to run yourself into the ground,” Tony says quietly, looking up to meet Sam’s eyes. A pause, and then, “You both are.”

Ah. There it is.

At this point, it’s no real secret that he and Steve are still looking for Bucky. The leads have grown colder and colder lately, but they’re still frequent enough that Sam feels like he’s never not chasing one down. Balancing their goose chase and the responsibilities of being an Avenger is more challenging than he would have anticipated, and Stark is right: it’s starting to wear on him.

He shrugs again. “Someone has to do it. He can’t go by himself, and you and I both know he’s not going to stop.”

And Steve won’t. Not until Bucky’s found or Steve physically can’t go any farther. Sam has never met someone with such single-minded determination, though he knows it isn’t unwarranted. Finding out your best friend is alive after 70 years isn’t something to take lightly.

“You’re right,” Tony says, nodding to himself. His eyes are distant, and Sam’s tired mind is starting to consider how socially appropriate it would be to just walk away. He’s just decided he doesn’t care when Tony focusses back on him. “Let me spell you for a while.”

Sam pauses. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. “I thought you were trying to get out,” he says, voice carefully measured.

It’s Tony’s turn to shrug. “I wanted to get out of the fighting. I wanted to stop watching my friend’s get hurt. This is different.” He goes quiet again for a moment. “I want to do this.” _I need to do this._

Sam looks at him for another minute before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

Tony looks surprised. “Really? Just like that?”

A small smile crosses Sam’s face. “Yeah, man. You’re right; I could use a little break.” And he really could.

Tony nods again and turns to leave, but Sam catches his arm. “You’re gonna have to clear this with the Cap first, you know.”

Tony grins at that, patting Sam on the arm. “You just leave that to me.” 

* * *

Steve’s newest lead brings them to Italy.

Now, Tony doesn’t mind Italy. He might even venture to say that he likes it; he’s been on a few business trips in the past, and Pepper loves Venetian architecture and the fine wines. Tony knows of a great pizza place in Arezzo that he might try and drag Steve too if he can get the other man to slow down for two seconds.

Which probably means that he’s not going to get his pizza. Damn. 

No, Tony is fine with Italy.

But, really, would it have killed Barnes to pick a town a little more populated? Or infrastructurally sound? The population is supposed to be a little over a thousand but so far Tony’s only counted about 20 people. Of those 20, only one of them could speak even a bit of halting English and _sorry Steve, not all of us can speak every other goddamn European language._ He’s fairly certain that the most modern piece of technology within 50 miles is a computer from the 90s, and he’s positive wi-fi is a completely foreign concept. (The people are kind, though, and he makes a mental note to talk to Pepper about their technological outreach program when he’s back stateside.)

So Tony complains, because that’s one of the things that Tony does best. But Tony is also perceptive, and he doesn’t even have to be to see how worn down Steve looks.

Tony is who he has always been: a childish, wise-cracking, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist friend. Steve’s friend. Tony is Tony, Steve is Steve, and he has to hope that that’s enough, because if it’s not then Steve will break himself and everything- and everyone- around him. It scares Tony, terrifies him in a way that reaches deep within his core, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s only enabling Steve’s self destructive behavior, if this isn’t all some giant mistake. He shakes the thought away.

Tony has a lot of regrets in his life. Helping Steve is not one of them. 

They’re currently walking down one of the side streets of the town. The sun is warm on his skin, and there’s not a soul in sight. Steve’s got his shield strapped to his back and, dressed in civilian clothing as he is, Tony thinks he looks a little ridiculous. Tony himself had opted for a subtler version of the Iron Man suit, wearing the remote bracelets on each risks. Neither of them are expecting a fight, but both carry an undeniable reputation which, according to Steve, could be useful.

Steve says that they’re going to talk to a local bus driver who claims to have seen Bucky in the past few days. Tony hopes for the best, for Steve’s sake, but the truth is that neither of them are expecting very much. Tony talked to Sam a bit before they left, and it seems as if just about all the trips have gone like this. The leads are gradually dying out, and they’re taking Steve’s hope right along with them.

Tony doesn’t say this, though. Instead, he begins to prattle about whatever comes to his mind the fastest. It starts with pizza and has moved nanotechnology in ten minutes. Steve is quiet beside him, humming occasionally in acknowledgement but otherwise content to let Tony carry the conversation for the both of them.

Tony is halfway through a thorough explanation supermolecular systems when Steve suddenly stops. “Tony.”

Tony hardly notices. He’s used to Steve cutting off his ramblings when he’s too frustrated or tired to deal with it. Steve has the patience of a saint, and Tony loves to push him towards the devil. Except-

“Tony.”

Steve doesn’t sound annoyed, he sounds confused, breathlessly so. Tony whirls in time to see his friend collapse to his knees, pulling red-stained fingers from his side. Blood. Now that he’s looking, Tony sees is everywhere, splattered lightly on the ground behind Steve, dying Steve’s dark blue shirt a garish purple, leaking onto his jeans and the sidewalk below.

Tony allows himself to be shocked for two seconds. “Steve…”

It’s two seconds too many.

Tony feels a sharp pinch in his neck and by the time his fingers reach up and pluck the dart from his neck, his vision is already starting to blur. He sinks to his knees and he and Steve are mirroring each other. Two sides of the same bleeding coin.

The world goes black. 

* * *

Tony awakes to a splitting headache and an ache in his wrists. 

The ground is hard beneath him, and this clues him into his situation enough to know that the situation of probably very not good and he should probably play possum for at least a few more minutes.

Then he remembers Steve, and his eyes fly open.

“Ugh, shi-” The lights are too bright and send the pain in his head spiking. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes and just barely manages to avoid getting smacked in the head by the chain that’s attached to his wrist. “Shit.”

Tony squints for a minute, letting his eyes adjust, before looking around his prison. He wants to laugh because it looks like an honest to god dungeon. The whiles are a dark gray brick, the door is wooden, and there are chains on the walls. Tony’s half expecting to find a dragon in the corner; he’s seen stranger things.

A few feet to his right, he finally spies Steve. The super soldier is still unconscious and looking a little worse for the wear. Blood is sluggishly pulsing out of a hole in his left abdomen ( _bullet wound,_ his mind supplies unhelpfully) and there’s a deep gash running from his forehead to his ear, oozing red. Like Tony, both of his wrists are shackled with chains attached to the wall.

“Steve. Hey, Steve! Up and at ‘em, Stars N’ Stripes. Steve!”

Tony’s been told he has a gift for annoying people back to consciousness. Steve stirs slightly, eyes cracking open into slits. “What d’you w’nt, T’ny,” he finally slurs, head lolling in Tony’s general direction.

Tony opens his mouth to respond but before he has the chance, the door opens and figures begin to fill the room. Two take up positions by the door; eight more spread out along the walls in the room; and the final man, an imposing middle-aged man, takes calm, measured steps towards the men on the floor.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the older man says, and there’s just a slight hint of a German accent tinging his words. _Great,_ Tony thinks, _Hydra’s in town._

Steve is immediately more alert, straightening his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at the man. He seems to have placed the accent as well. “Who are you? Hydra?”

The man stops in between the two of them, smiling. “Very astute of you, captain. You may call me Adler; I believe introductions on your behalf are unnecessary.”

Steve looks like he wants to say something else but Tony beats him to it, giving Steve a sideways glance. _Be quiet and save you strength,_ he commands silently before turning back to the man in front of them.

“What’s it going to be, then?” Tony asks blandly. “Torture? Threats? We’re kind of superheroes, in case you hadn’t heard.”

Although damn it to hell if they don’t look it right now. Tony isn’t filled with quite enough self-loathing to deem himself useless without the Iron Man suit, but metal chains are, well, metal. Reinforced too, judging by the fact that Steve hasn’t simply broken free with a simple twist of his arms. 

In his defense, Steve doesn’t look likes he could break a toothpick right now. His face has gone gray, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggles to control his increasingly harsh breathing. Tony only allows his eyes to flick down for a split second, but it’s enough; Steve’s entire torso is now stained red.

Adler blinks down at them once before a quiet smile breaks across his face. “I do not doubt your claims, Mr. Stark. I do not wish to insult you; I can assure you both that we have put a great deal of thought and consideration into your stay.”

Steve and Tony exchange a tired look.

Adler motions to one of the men standing off to the side, and suddenly there’s a syringe in his hand. Tony eyes it wearily, because the liquid is an ominous black color that doesn’t promise anything nice. “That’s so sweet of you, but I’m actually up to date on all my vaccinations, thanks,” he deadpans, eyes carefully tracking the man as he turns back to them.

The smile is back, and Tony desperately wants to wipe it off his smug face. “You are funny, Mr. Stark,” he says calmly, head dipping in a short nod. “We are not here to ensure your wellbeing today, I am afraid.” He takes another step closer, and Tony has to will himself not to lean back.

Adler crouches down and is silent for a moment, staring almost dreamily at the needle in his hands. Then his eyes lift, meeting Tony’s, and the smile is back. “Within this syringe is mixture of drugs and chemicals meant to induce vivid hallucinations. I won’t bore you with the details, but allow me to explain: one part of the drug excites to hypothalamus in the brain, heightening the body’s fight or flight response and sending signals to the kidney’s to produce more adrenaline; the other activates the amygdala.”

Tony’s heart begins to race a little bit even as the scientist in him considers the data he’s just been given. He’s ready to open his mouth, bite out another retort, but Steve surprises all of them and beats him to it. “So you want to scare us,” he summarizes flatly.

Adler is positively beaming at him. “Ah, captain, it is good to see that you are still with us. I was afraid we might be losing you a bit too soon.” His smile widens into a shark-like grin. “You are correct. In theory, the drug is meant to show you not only what you fear, but what you fear most, in the form of a complete sensory hallucination.”

There is silence. Adler and Steve are engaged in a staring contest and Tony is resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, been there, done that, what else you got,” he sneers, because really, when will these guys learn to do their homework?

Except apparently he did, because Adler breaks eye contact with Steve and _damn it, does this guy ever stop smiling?_ “You are referring to the one known as ‘Scarlet Witch,’ yes? We are aware of her powers, just as we are aware of the Ultron incident. What you were shown, Mr. Stark, was a nightmare; and, if you were unfortunate enough, perhaps that nightmare was also your greatest fear; but nightmares and real, genuine fear are not necessarily a singular concept.”

After Ultron and Sokovia, the Avengers never really talked about the waking dreams Wanda had forced upon them. For one thing, it was too deeply personal- and damning- of an experience to be pushed or even so much as touched without a 100% willingness to share. For another- and this part still makes Tony itch- they were all too scattered to have any form of group therapy. Bruce was in the wind; Thor had matters to attend to on Asgard; Clint, the lucky bastard, had escaped this particular torture; and Natasha and Steve were busy running around with their new Avengers.

Tony raises an eyebrow and shrugs as best he can. “Sure, okay.”

Adler cocks his head and let’s the arm holding the syringe relax at his side. “Okay.” 

* * *

Tony sees an out. It’s a lot of talking, a little deflecting, and just enough time for one of them to figure out how to escape or a third party swooping in to rescue them.

Steve sees an end. It’s a needle in one of their necks, and it’s not going to be Tony’s. 

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Tony does know a thing or two about subtlety. Just because he _doesn’t_ do it doesn’t mean he _can’t._ His sense of self-preservation is just functional enough that he doesn’t want invite torture upon himself, and he respects Steve too much to blatantly draw attention away from him.

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” he begins, and his tone is just apologetic enough to be shit-eating, “but Uncle Sam and I are kind of in the business of facing our fears. I’ve lived mine; and we don’t call the good captain our fearless leader for nothing.”

"There is always something to fear, whether any of us would care to acknowledge it or not,” Adler says quietly, and suddenly his full attention is on Steve and Tony is as good as invisible. “I wonder, what do you fear, captain? What haunts your nightmares, plagues the deepest corners of your mind, breaks down the worn edges of your heart?"

Steve looks like he’s clinging to consciousness at this point, but his drooping eyes harden and his shoulders tense. He says nothing.   

"Could it be the ice which preserved your body- though perhaps not your soul- while everyone you ever knew and loved was left to decay to time? Or something yet simpler, perhaps, the roar of a plane, the rush of a free fall straight towards the ground below?"

Tony things Steve’s teeth are about to shatter, his jaw is clenched so tight. He says nothing. 

"Could it be death? No, I wouldn't think so. Your life is not without purpose, dear captain, but neither is your death: it simply depends on your perspective, I suppose. The world as you see it now needs you more than you could possibly comprehend, but the world as you want it to be, the world that you need it to be, abandoned you 70 years when it allowed you to disappear in ice and flame. No, death would only be a return to the safety and the love you left behind. You cannot fear what has been lost."

"This is all very interesting and all, but could we maybe pick up the pace a little?" Tony snaps, rolling his eyes. He can't quite keep the tight concern from his voice, but the anger that's been simmering inside him since he woke up keeps him grounded.

Steve says nothing. 

"But you can fear what you stand to lose," Adler continues as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "How much strength and patience did it cost to build this new life of yours? Quite a bit, I'd imagine. So much, in fact, that I doubt you could do it again. Is this what you fear, captain?"

Steve says nothing. 

Tony wishes he would. 

* * *

It's give in or give out: surrender or defeat.  

Steve has learned that the two can be mutually exclusive. Surrender isn't always a bad thing. You can surrender to love; you can surrender to a cause higher than yourself. Steve has done this. Steve surrenders himself every time he opens his eyes, every time he takes a breath, every day he lives in this new world. Not his world, but a world nonetheless. He surrenders to it. 

He will surrender himself for Bucky. He will surrender himself for Tony.

Steve will surrender for any and all of the Avengers, because they’re all he’s got and they’re all he is. He’ll fight and kick and scream and _bleed_ until he sees the end, and then he’ll do something harder: he’ll surrender.

And here’s the thing: Steve can see the end. 

Steve is a strategist: he likes to take a situation, account for all the variables, and prepare for every possible outcome.  

There are no signs for this. It's not an instinct, not a feeling, not even a conscious logical argument. It simply is. 

Steve hasn’t told anyone, because it’s not something any of them want to hear, and it’s not something any of them can change, but it’s there. It’s always there. Steve can see it because he knows it’s coming.

They will be his end. Steve knows this, accepts this. Even more, Steve embraces it. He wants this. He will die so that they can live. It’s not that he wants to die, because somehow, even after all of this, he doesn’t; but he does want to give them his all. He wants to give all of himself.

So Steve waits for the end.

* * *

Steve hasn’t said a word, but Tony somehow thinks Adler’s gotten exactly what he wants out of him. 

Adler looks down at the syringe, spinning it thoughtfully in his hands, and looks back up. “Let us see.”

Things move too quickly for either Tony or Steve to comprehend. Two of the men by the door move toward Steve and a boot lands on Steve’s wounded side. He gives a strangled cry, face paling further as his vision whites out and all the breath leaves his body. Tony hears himself yelling, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Adler takes two quick steps forward and suddenly he’s upon Steve. His men hold Steve’s arms taught, one of them pulling Steve’s head to the side so that his neck is exposed. Adler makes quick work, gripping Steve’s hair and aligning the needle with his artery. Steve’s eyes swing dazedly to him, bright with pain and resignation. Adler depresses the plunger.

* * *

Tony has never seen Steve so out of his element. He wonders if this is what it looked like when Wanda took him down off the coast of Africa. 

Steve’s pupils are blown wide. There’s a brief moment when he first comes back around where his breath catches and Tony is sure is about to devolve into a panic attack, but then Steve blinks twice, focusses, and his panic dissolves into relief. For one brief, blissful moment, Tony thinks things might just be okay.

Then Steve opens his mouth, there’s a name on his lips, and Tony knows that he’s done for. 

* * *

Steve opens his eyes and he doesn’t know where he is. 

His body is slumped and everything hurts and his wrists are heavy and _he doesn’t know where he is._

He’s had this nightmare before. They used to occur nearly every night, when they’d just taken him out of the ice and he didn’t know when or where he was. He’s got them down to about once a month now, but they’re never any easier.

The walls are gray and empty. He’s never seen them before and yet he feels like he should know them. He blinks, squints, blinks again, and suddenly he’s not alone.

“Bucky,” he whispers.

The relief he feels is blinding and unstoppable. It’s been so many months, so many long days of fruitless searches and long nights of pacing back and forth, wondering if his friend was okay. “Bucky,” he repeats, and he can’t help the desperate laugh that escapes him. The figure before him is blurry and it takes him a moment to realize that his eyes are suddenly burning, but he’s not ashamed. “Bucky, I’m so glad-” 

_I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad that I found you. I’m so glad that you found me. I’m so glad that you’re not dead-_

“You should’ve stopped looking for me.”

Steve’s heart stammers to a stop in his chest.

“I… No, Buck, it’s okay now. It’s all gonna be okay now.” It occurs to him that it’s not Bucky standing before him now, but the Winter Soldier. Steve doesn’t care. It doesn’t make a difference, in the end. “Please, Buck, we’re gonna fix this, we’re gonna make this right and-”

“You should’ve stopped looking for me.”

Steve freezes. Bucky hasn’t moved. There’s a moment when the two of them simply stare at each other, Steve slumped against the wall, Bucky rigid on the other side of the room. Then Bucky lowers his eyes to the ground.

“You can’t save me, Steve,” he says quietly. Steve wants to argue, to yell and break free of the chains that he now realizes are holding him in his place, but suddenly Bucky’s eyes snap back up to meet his. They are fierce and empty all at once. “And you can’t save them either.”

Steve freezes. Bucky’s eyes flick to the side, and for the first time Steve registers that they’re not alone in the room.

Steve turns his head slowly and meets the eyes of the other Avengers.

* * *

Tony has never seen Steve cry before. He knows, of course, that it has to happen sometimes. Steve is human, but more than that, he is young and has taken on more grief and pain than any other man Tony knows. Tony considers Steve to be one of his closest friends, but he’s never seen him cry before.

Tony’s never heard Steve scream before, either.

* * *

Bucky starts with Sam.

Steve knows why he does it. Sam has been by Steve’s side since day one. He’s sacrificed the calm, free life at the VA to help Steve find Bucky. To help Steve. He’s dedicated as many hours, lost just as much sleep, chased down possibly more leads than Steve, and he continued the search when Steve couldn’t anymore. The Falcon has been Captain America’s right hand man. Not in the way that Bucky was, because Sam is not a replacement, but he’s still there.

Steve knows why he starts with Sam. He screams anyway.

Sam’s body drops to the floor.

* * *

Natasha is next.

Her eyes lock with his, and there is no fear. There is no betrayal. This isn’t as personal as it is for Steve, but it’s still personal.

The Winter Soldier moves behind her. Steve begs, and Natasha smiles. There is forgiveness, and acceptance. There is release.

Natasha falls.

* * *

Steve is on his feet, pulling on the chains and doing his damnedest to charge forward. His wrists are shredded and the bullet wound in his side is weeping blood. His pleading echoes off the walls. Tony briefly wonders how Steve is even conscious, let alone mobile, before he remembers that Steve’s body is probably producing enough adrenaline to stop a normal man’s heart.

Judging by the desperate, panicked pitch of his screams, it might stop Steve’s too.

* * *

The Winter Soldier moves down the line. Steve screams. Steve cries. Steve thinks _he can’t kill a god, he can’t kill the Hulk, he can’t-_

Steve is wrong. The Winter Soldier moves down the line.

* * *

Steve’s nose is bleeding.

Tony knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s the drug, that Steve’s homeostasis has been interrupted and his body is fighting whatever is coursing through his veins in the best and bloodiest way it knows how. 

Despite this, he knows he’ll never be able to see it as anything other than Steve’s grief and fear finally tearing him apart from the inside out.

* * *

He saves Tony for last.

Steve’s knees give out and he’s moaning on the floor. “Bucky, please.” His throat aches and he can barely get the words out anymore. It feels like the Winter Soldier’s metal hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed because he can’t breathe and he can’t speak and he can’t move.

Tony’s eyes are dark. He holds his head high and there’s something about his expression that reminds Steve achingly of Howard.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. Tony is silent, and Steve thinks he might be crying too. There’s so much more he wants to say, but the words won’t come. 

The Winter Soldier moves.

* * *

Steve looks like he’s going to die. 

He’s just out of Tony’s reach in every way that counts, and Tony doesn’t know what to do.

Tony can only imagine what Steve is seeing. He knows that Bucky is there, and he knows that Steve has screamed himself hoarse. Steve is on his knees now, and Tony has to watch carefully to make sure he’s even still breathing. Blood coats his face and clothes, puddles on the floor around him. Steve’s entire body is wracked with tremors, but Tony doesn’t think he even notices them.

Adler, the bastard, is watching quietly off to the side, smile firmly in place. As Steve slumps down a little further, he nods and looks at Tony. “And here, we reach our end.”

Tony feels trapped. It’s too late; he is too late. There’s no rescue, no escape.

No out. Only an end.

* * *

Steve and Bucky are alone once more. 

The pain in Steve’s body is beginning to overtake him, and with each passing second it’s becoming more and more of a struggle to keep his eyes open. But he will. He will for Bucky.

There’s a gun in the Winter Soldier’s hand. He begins taking slow, measured steps toward Steve. “Are you ready?” Bucky- no, not Bucky, _this was never Bucky-_ asks.

Steve closes his eyes. He was too late for the others, but he won't be too late for Bucky.

The gun comes to a rest on his forehead.

* * *

The room is silent.

Steve’s eyes close.

And they open.

“Please,” he whispers.

A single tear slides down Steve’s face.

* * *

Steve does not fear death. 

He did, once. He remembers the way his hands shook when he forced the controls of the plane down, the way his vision narrowed as the ice crept closer and closer, the prayer on his lips as the water overtook him and he could only think _please, God, let this end._

He feared death then, but he’s experienced it now. He doesn’t want to die, but not because he’s afraid.

The gun is ice cold against his temple, and if Steve tries hard enough he thinks he can pretend it’s freezing his brain and that he’ll die before Bucky gets a chance to pull the trigger.

The gun is pulled back. Steve opens his eyes.

Steve used to see the world as he wanted it to be: black and white, surrounded by vibrant spectrum of color.

He sees it, now, for what it really is. What it always has been: icy grey, burning and bruising and bleeding red. Circling around to it’s end.

Bucky is standing before him, the gun held firmly at his side. Unlike Steve, his hands do not shake. His eyes are cold and they bore into Steve, laying bare his soul.

“You can’t die yet,” the Winter Soldier says quietly. The gun is lifted again, this time pressing against Bucky’s head.

Steve can’t breathe. Steve can’t move.

“Please,” and it’s so defeated, because Steve knows this. He knows how this will end.

The gun goes off.

Steve is alone.

* * *

Steve’s body goes limp against the wall as his eyes roll back in his head.

Tony is helpless to do anything but watch.

* * *

Three things happen at once.

Tony forgets how to breathe. In some distant region of his mind, he recognizes that he’s dangerously close to a panic attack, but this thought hardly registers. He wants to scream and thrash and utterly destroy everyone in a 50-foot radius and save Steve, he needs to _save Steve,_ but his lungs aren’t working.

The doors are kicked in and suddenly the room is filling with SHIELD agents and Avengers, old and new alike. There is gunfire and chaos as bodies begin to drop and the newcomers swarm forward.

And Steve begins to seize.

* * *

The chaos crescendos from there.

Tony’s on his knees pulling the chains as far as he can go in a futile attempt to get to Steve, screaming for someone to get over there and help him. Sam in suddenly there, his hands reaching out like he wants to do something, but he can only wait for the seizing to end.

It does. Steve isn’t breathing.

“We need a medic in here!” Sam shouts as he frantically checks for a pulse. He curses, pulls his fingers back, and immediately begins CPR.

The Avengers continue to move into the room, and when Tony dares to look up it’s easy to see that Hydra’s forces are being overtaken.

There’s a thump to his left, and Tony’s eyes jerk again. Adler is on his knees, Natasha standing over him with a dangerously unforgiving expression. If Adler notices or cares that he’s the prisoner of a world renowned assassin, he doesn’t show it.

Adler’s eyes fix on Steve, who is motionless and broken underneath Sam’s hands. He looks at Tony, and he smiles.

“He couldn’t save you,” Adler says, cocking his head to the side and smirking, “and you cannot save him.”

Natasha’s brows crease, and seconds later Adler hits the floor, unconscious.

* * *

“Tony,” a breathless voice says in his ear. Rhodey. Tony can’t tear his eyes away from Steve. “Get them off,” Tony whispers. Rhodey nods quietly before concentrating a beam of energy on the chains around Tony’s wrists.

They fall to the floor with a sharp clatter and Tony is moving. He falls to his knees beside Steve and Sam with bruising force but he doesn’t notice because _Steve isn’t breathing._

Tony’s not big into physical contact but he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to take Steve’s hand or shake him by the shoulders or _something._ “Steve, please.”

He can’t die. Not like this, not ever. “Steve, _please._ ”

The medics come. Steve doesn’t breathe.

* * *

They stabilize him, eventually, but he remains unconscious for nearly a week after the incident.

There was internal bleeding from the gunshot wound. His heart went into cardiac arrest because of the strain it was put under. His nervous system had been temporarily overwhelmed. If he were any other man, Steve would be dead.

Three days after their rescue, Steve has been moved back to the Avengers facility to recover. Tony and Wanda are sitting with him when he opens his eyes, blinks, and begins to panic.

“Steve, Steve! Shh, it’s okay, buddy, hey Steve, we got you out!” Tony tries to reassure him even as the machines by his bed begin to wail and nurses flood the room.

Steve’s eyes are unfocussed and glassy- he’s developed a slight fever in the aftermath- but his eyes lock onto Tony. His breathing hitches. For a second, Tony thinks he might be coming back to himself. Then Steve is lost in the hysteria once more.

Tony heard Steve cry, back in that room, but somehow this is worse. This is broken; this is unhindered. Steve’s sobs are wild and uncontrollable and undirected. 

A nurse pushes Tony and Wanda out of the room while another quickly empties a sedative into Steve’s IV. Tony sees the other man’s eyes begin to droop, and then the door slams shut in his face.

Wanda is pale beside him. _She can_  see, Tony’s mind supplies belatedly. He’s there in an instant, laying a steadying hand on her arm even though he feels himself trembling. She closes her eyes, takes a steadying breath, and, when she reopens them, there is something dark and sympathetic. The combination doesn't make Tony feel any better. 

Tony isn't sure what to say. Asking is an invasion of Steve’s privacy, but Tony can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

"What did he see?"

Wanda is quiet, and for a minute Tony thinks that she won’t answer him. Then she opens her mouth, and he wishes she hadn’t. 

"An end."

* * *

Steve’s body is healed within a week. His mind takes a little longer. 

As soon as he’s able, Steve is out of his hospital room. Tony finds him sitting on of the outdoor training decks, legs swinging slightly as he stares blankly into the forest that lines the Avengers facility.

“You’re doing the best you can, you know,” Tony says, sitting beside him. Steve doesn’t look up but he does huff out a tired, unconvincing laugh. “I should be doing more though.”

Tony shrugs. Steve doesn’t need to be patronized, even if Tony thinks he’s wrong. “Maybe.” They’re both silent for a minute. “You know that you can’t do this all by yourself, you know. He has to want you to find him.”

Steve flinches minutely but doesn’t disagree. Tony stares straight ahead. “Things might not go your way.” Tony doesn’t want to be the one to say it, but someone has to. If Steve wants to play the martyr game then Tony will play it, too.

"I can accept my fate," Steve says quietly. "I can't accept his."

Tony nods. That’s that, then.

“If you need anything,” Tony says, pulling himself back to his feet, “you know where to find me.”

He has only made it a few feet when Steve’s voice stops him. “Tony.” He turns slowly and is met with pained but earnest blue eyes. “Thank you.”

Tony smiles, dips his head, and leaves.

* * *

So Tony sees an out and Steve sees an end. 

This is not Steve’s end. He knows that now, because his heart is still somewhat whole and his soul hasn’t been completely crushed and he still has more to give. He still has more to give.

His moment has not come. He knows this.

His moment is coming. He knows this, too.

Tony sees an out. Steve sees an end.

Only one of them involves a happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes that got away from me a little.
> 
> To be clear, I don't think Bucky is going to try and kill everyone in Civil War. But during AOU I was struck by how Steve's nightmare focussed on his inability to leave the war and everything he lost behind and nothing in the movie ever really touched on his struggle with finding Bucky or losing the people he'd come to know in the present, so I decided to explore a little. 
> 
> Apologies if the characters are out of character! I originally meant to write this heavily from Steve's point of view but for whatever reason decided that some objective(ish) perspective from Tony was a better way to go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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